Naples also found the moment propitious for re-asserting her baseless claims to this much-disputed crown; since the death of the infant King had left the Queen without a successor in her own line, and might dispose her to look with favor on the proffer of the hand of Don Alfonso of Naples who would graciously consent to accept the position of King-consort—instead of that of "Prince of Galilee," which had not proved to be the imposing, permanent honor his partisans had fondly hoped.

Meanwhile, with the persistence worthy of a better cause, his supporters had ingeniously thrust him forward—a compliant puppet—from one scheme into another—all tending toward this same noble end. Immediately after the failure of Rizzo's conspiracy, he had been betrothed to the illegitimate daughter of King Janus—one of the three children mentioned in his will—who with her two brothers, had been sent to Venice to avert possible disastrous consequences; a small following in Cyprus upheld this match—so eager were they that some descendant of their charmer King Janus, should keep the crown of their realm, that they granted the Neapolitan Prince Alfonso the shadowy title of "Prince of Galilee."

But after the death of his young betrothed, Alfonso had followed Carlotta to Alexandria, where Rizzo now held the honorable post of Ambassador to the Sultan from the Court of Naples; and here, while Venice was still playing her game, sub-rosa without the overt confession of power that came later—Rizzo, the arch-schemer, first sought to bring about the adoption of the prince of Naples by Carlotta—as heir-presumptive to her rights; and later, as her following among the Cyprian nobility increased, proposed Alfonso for husband to Carlotta.

But now, since the strength of Venice could be no longer doubted, Rizzo, holding ever in view the ascendancy of his chief and with an astounding faith in his own magnificent insolence, rose to the occasion, and sailed on a secret embassy for Cyprus to propose the hand of Alfonso to Queen Caterina herself!

The details of this romantic intrigue were not known until long afterward in the court-circle, except by the few who had intercepted and frustrated the carefully-laid plans; but there were many hints of some concealed happening of deep interest which made delightful themes for romantic conjecture whenever the younger maids of honor found themselves happily without the dignified supervision of the Lady of the Bernardini and Madama di ThÉnouris, or the equally-to-be-evaded younger maid-of-honor, Margherita de Iblin.

"Something has happened, and no one tells us anything," one of them declared discontentedly when curiosity had reached an unbearable pitch, and the rumors of which they had caught echoes were growing in interest. "There was a fire high upon the hills one morning; some say it was a beacon fire.""There are always rumors that mean nothing," said EloisÀ quietly.

Dama Margherita had been kept in close attendance upon the Queen, who had been often in counsel with the Counts of the Chamber of late, and EloisÀ had an uneasy sense that it devolved upon her to uphold the quietness of discussion for which Dama Margherita always strove.

"Nay, EloisÀ—that strange craft, hiding back of the great rock on the coast—without lights or colors—why was it anchored there, in sight of the signal-fire, instead of in the port where it had been safer?"

"Thou wilt have it a beacon-fire," EloisÀ interposed again; "it is in truth more romantic than a blaze some wanderer may have lighted to do duty for his camp."

But no one answered her, they were all humming about Dama Ecciva, interrupting each other with excited questions; for Dama Ecciva had been, if possible, more mysterious and tantalizing than ever since these rumors had been afloat—which was a sign that she could tell something if she would. "So, my pretty friends!" she answered with a silvery laugh, "for once it entereth your thought that there be matters about which we—the Maids of honor of Her Majesty—are not worthy to hear!"

"I make exception of the Dama Margherita, to whom Her Majesty is honey-sweet!" she added, as her glance rested on EloisÀ; and growing hot as she dwelt upon the thought, she went on—"she hath a manner quite insufferable—she, who hath not more right than I to rule this court. If one were to put the question to our knights—'an Iblin or a de Montferrat?' would it make a pretty tourney for a Cyprian holiday?"

She laughed a mocking, malicious laugh; then suddenly stretched out one slender hand and made a descriptive motion as of tossing her glove into the centre of a distant circle—her eyelids narrowing until they seemed almost to close—a strange light escaping from them—her breath coming with slow pants, as if from suffocation—the hand dropped at her side betraying her passion by convulsive movements trembling through the tinted finger-tips.

In the bizarre Cyprian costume which many of the ancient Greek patricians still retained, she seemed of a different mold from the young Venetian gentlewomen of the court of Caterina—like some fantastic fury, half-elf, half-woman.

"The Melusina!" EloisÀ whispered, shuddering: "thou mindest me of her. I like thee not in this strange mood!" while the others drew away from her with a faint cry of protest.

But Ecciva's momentary mood of passion passed as quickly as it came; and she answered her companions with a tantalizing, sparkling smile, rallying them on their seriousness, and flashing whimsicalities around the circle like some splendid, inconsequent fire-fly.

Her dark hair, woven with coins and trinkets, fell in innumerable long slender braids behind, from under a coronet of jessamine blossoms strung together upon strips of palm, which clasped the clustering waves of hair closer about her face—pure and colorless as old ivory. Her robe, of green brocade, richly embroidered with gold, fell over full pantaloons of scarlet satin which were tightly bound about the slender ankles by jewelled bands, displaying to advantage the tiny feet, clad in boots of soft, yellow kid, fantastically wrought with gold threads; the robe parted over a bodice of yellow, open at the throat, around which chains of gold and jewels were wound in undue profusion.

"It is thou, perchance, Ecciva, who knowest not how to win the favor of Dama Margherita," ventured one maiden, bolder than the rest; "for with us hath she ever been most gracious. And for Her Majesty, the Queen——"

But a sudden impulse had come to Ecciva to cover herself with glory by making her companions sharers in the news of which she had gotten knowledge by a fashion peculiarly her own.

"Nay: leave the Queen to the Dama Margherita for this one blissful morning," she interrupted without ceremony: "for I have news—verily; and they may return ere it be told. Which of you knoweth aught of the Holy Sister Violante—she of the down-held lids and silent ways—who slipped into the court the night of that great signal fire upon the mountain, behind the citadel?"

She scanned the eager faces triumphantly, but no one had anything to tell.

"For verily the Sister Violante maketh part of this strange mystery," she proceeded after a moment of impressive silence. "She and the great signal fire—of which no one knew aught!—so innocent were all the gentlemen of the court—and the Bernardini most of all! But they are parts of one romance; and the Violante came to influence Her Majesty; the Violante, with her devout ways, wearing the habit of a holy sisterhood to which her gracious Majesty is wont to give undue reverence—being not apt to penetrate an intrigue—too fair a saint, by far!—The Sister Violante came to win Her Majesty to acquiesce in some strange bidding from Rhodes; or perchance from the Sultan himself."

"How knowest thou, Ecciva?" They crowded around her thrilling with pleasant excitement—the craving for which was unduly whetted by the splendor and aimlessness of the life of this Eastern court—for a romance with such a beginning might have an indefinitely delightful termination; and Dama Ecciva had some strange knack of always knowing more than others of any savory morsel of gossip of which there might be hints in the air.

She looked at them nonchalantly, well-pleased at any sort of dominance, but never confessing it by her attitude.

"Have I not eyes?" she questioned, with tantalizing slowness; "and ears?—Are they to grow dull for lack of usage?"

"Nay; tell us, Ecciva."

She drew nearer and lowered her voice mysteriously. "That Tristan de Giblet—he who would have killed the King the night that he climbed the city-walls and fled to Rhodes—we know the tale——"

"Aye, aye; we know it. And then?"—they pleaded impatiently.

But Dama Ecciva was not to be swerved from the irritating composure which pleased her mood for the moment:

"And one of us—hath any one seen Alicia de Giblet? She hath not been among us since that night of the signal fire."

"She hath been ill, in the ChÂteau de Giblet this month past," several voices responded at once.

"Perchance, sweet maids;—or in some other less splendid castle where dungeons are of more account than the fine banquet hall of the de Giblet! And because Alicia is sister to this Messer Tristan—I have done much thinking of late—it is time for the Bernardini to return. Let us give over talk."

"Alicia de Giblet was sister to that traitor!" one of them exclaimed indignantly; "and we never dreamed it! But she was gentilissima; poverina! Ah, the pity of it!"

"But how came she ill, 'because of it,' as thou sayest, Ecciva?" EloisÀ questioned, wishing ever to have a reason for her beliefs; "it was long since!"

"The night of the King's flight was long since—verily—before his coronation. Carlotta was Queen, then;—there have been wars and death and woe enough since then! But this night of the signal fire is but a month agone—and that night came Tristan de Giblet to talk with his sister, who let him into the Palazzo Reale. The daring of the man! We are not cowards—we Cyprians!"

"Ecciva!—how canst thou verily be sure!"

She touched her eyes again, mysteriously.

"I knew him," she said, "when he was talking with his sister, and I heard her promise him to bring him into the private audience chamber of the Queen.""And thou, also, wert there?"

"Am I the Margherita to be shown such favor? Nay, but I have an audience-chamber of my own from the window of my turret when there is no light within: and all that day I knew by the face of Alicia that there was some intrigue—which I was not one to miss through heedlessness! Alicia was watching for him that night; and I knew his face when I saw them together on the terrace. And with them was another man—wrapped in a cloak—the feather of his hat drooping low over his face.—And his face—I never turned my eyes away from him and I saw it for a moment when the wind swept his feather aside—his face was the face of—Rizzo!" she whispered the name.

"Nay, nay, Ecciva—not he! It could not be he!"

"Nay, my trusting children; believe your betters, if you will! As for me—I trust these eyes, rather than the uncertain speech of those who teach us what we may believe. These eyes are good eyes! They have not failed me yet!"

She laughed lightly, satisfied with the impression her tale had made, as she turned away indifferently; but they were eager for the rest.

"There is more, Ecciva!—that which cometh after?—subito—for the Lady of the Bernardini might return!" They were all clamoring about her. "And Alicia verily brought him to the Queen's audience-chamber?"

"Nay—bide my time, chatterers, if you would hear the tale—for it hath a sequel—we do not often get one good enough to be spoiled by a too hasty telling.—Rizzo, for it was verily he—can any one forget Rizzo!—he turned from them and began to climb the mountain, there, where the signal fire glowed later. And Tristan, the handsome knight, came into the palace with his sister; and after them come following the holy sister Violante—she who came hither from Rhodes some days before."

"Go on!" they cried eagerly, crowding closer. She waved them away from her.

"There is no more," she answered provokingly—"save that which we all know; the signal-fire, and the galley floating below by the coast, half hidden by the great rock—for that also I saw from my turret—thanks be to the Madonna for lifting the mortal dulness! And I left sleep for better things that night; for it was well-nigh the hour of matins when the galley set sail for Venice."

"But the audience with the Queen?"

"There was no audience. For I bethought me of somewhat I had forgotten in the ante-chamber—not to miss the knowledge of what was passing—and I sped me thither. And then there was naught left to do but to hide me, somewhat weak of heart, in the tapestry of the ante-chamber; for the door was wide into the Queen's salon, and there was His Excellency the Bernardini, flashing scorn in his speech, so that one thought the air would break into flames—he, the while, standing still enough for an image of a wrathful Kinyras; the Queen's guard was around him, all in full armor—a doughty corps of men to meet those three!—Alicia, white as a spirit, weeping against Tristan; and Violante, shaken out of her holy calm, kneeling to pray His Excellency's grace!"

"And then——?"

"And then they left the Queen's chamber and I dared not creep forth until all was quiet again. But I heard His Excellency's speech as he stood bowing in the doorway when the guards led Tristan forth—a model of courtesy one would have said—for I could see him through a parting in the arras though I risked my life in standing there—'Her Majesty' said the Bernardini—very fair of speech—'doth surely owe such escort to the Illustrissimo, the Seigneur de Giblet, for the attention he would fain have offered in his own person to King Janus, in his Episcopal Palace before he wore the crown of the realm.' And the Seigneur de Giblet, not to be outdone—being Cyprian—answers him—very proud and cold—'Is your Excellency ever so faithful to reward a service contemplated, but not achieved?' For he had meant to smother the King in his sleep that night, if Janus had not escaped to Egypt."

They were all silent until Ecciva, less overcome by these tragic memories, resumed her story.

"And after that, Tristan came no more; nor his sister, the fair Alicia; nor Rizzo, the dark-browed. Nor was it many days ere Violante, the most holy sister, had left the court.—Ask the Provveditori!"

"But what message did they bring Her Majesty?"

"Am I a noble of Venice that I should know this mystery which toucheth our realm of Cyprus?" she answered scornfully. "Ask the Bernardini, or the Dama Margherita—to whom he confesseth all his soul!"

"But Rizzo?" EloisÀ asked, bewildered.

"And Rizzo—when he had lighted the signal fire on the mountain—thinking perchance, there had been time for the meeting with the Queen which Alicia had promised Tristan—and the galley had come to shore beneath and waited for him,—went on board, nothing doubting, thinking to return to Rhodes—who knoweth?—To Carlotta perchance;—but he found the galley manned with mariners from the arsenal of Venice; and Tristan coming to set sail for Venice, with the Queen's guard, all in full armor, to speed him on his way: and a Venetian General in command, in lieu of the African Captain of the galley who brought him hither. For one may seek in vain to outwit a Venetian; one must admire them for that, though it work us woe!"

"It is thine own tale, verily, Ecciva; thou speakest to mock us!"

"Nay—faith of Sant'ElenÀ, it is true and sad enough—if there were not sadder to come. For Tristan, the gallant, handsome knight, being in chains, and fearing worse awaited him when he should reach Venice, wrenched the diamond from a ring he wore and kneaded it into the bread they served him for his breakfast, and swallowed it—and so there was an end."

They still looked at her incredulously—"How shouldst thou know this tale of horror more than others—if it were true?"

She shrugged her shoulders indifferently. "If one maketh wise use of opportunity, one need not always wait the telling. But to-morrow the court will be ringing with the tale; it cometh but now from Venice."

"But Rizzo?"

"He is there in Venice in the pozzi; and the end will not be easy like that of Tristan. For he is the greatest traitor of them all—verily a traitor almost sublime. It were not so difficult to admire the nerve of the man!—Rizzo——"

But her further speech was lost in the babel of expostulation and question that broke forth, and which would have lasted long but for the return of Madama di ThÉnouris and Dama Margherita.