Читать книгу The Royal Pawn of Venice - Mrs. Lawrence Turnbull - Страница 7

Table of Contents

Among the day-dreams of the Rulers of Venice the island of Cyprus had long loomed large and fair—Cyprus, the happy isle of romance, l'isola fortunata, sea-girdled, clothed with dense forests of precious woods, veined with inexhaustible mines of rich metals; a very garden of luscious fruits, garlanded with ever-blooming flowers—a land flowing with milk and honey and steeped in the fragrance of wines that a god might covet.

Kypros—Paphos—a theme for poets, where Aphrodite rose from the foam of the sea, and the fabled groves of the mysteries of Venus gave place to primitive shrines of Christian worship, while innumerable Grecian legends were merged in early Christian traditions, imparting some of their own tint of fable, yet baptizing anew the groves and hillsides to sanctity. Beautiful hillsides, rippling down to the sea-coasts; and plains, nestling among the mountain slopes, littered with remnants of vast temples of superb pagan workmanship and with priceless pre-historic remains: wonderful, ancient marbles, time-mellowed and crumbling, inwrought rather with barbaric symbols of splendor than with the tender grace of poetic suggestion.

And this land of many races and dynasties, of conflicting ideals and religions, as of many tongues—where domination was largely a matter of the stronger hand—still held among the nations her ancient soubriquet of the happy isle.

But less for her romance and beauty than because this notissima famæ insulæ was a possession to be envied by a diplomatic nation, since its position lent it importance, the Republic had looked upon it with longing eyes—and because of its commerce, which equalled that of Venice, long ago the far-seeing Senate had sought to purchase it from the Greek Emperor, but the agreement had come to naught by treachery of the Emperor's son.

Nevertheless, Cyprus had not been forgotten; and the time for Venice to make good this remembrance had now come uppermost on the calendar of the years.

So they were ready to give rapt attention to the flattering proposals of the young Cyprian Monarch, as presented by his dignified ambassador, the Signor Filippo Mastachelli, when he appeared before the Signoria with the retinue and splendor of an Eastern Prince, bearing gifts of jewels meet for a royal bride, to claim the hand of a patrician maid of Venice, to make her Queen of Cyprus.

Janus the Second was young and brave, the idol of a party of his people—and where was the kingdom in which there were known to be no discontents? He was upheld by the great Sultan of Egypt to whom he owed suzerainty and, if in disfavor of the Holy Father for this allegiance, Venice had always permitted Rome to question her own supremacy and was not disconcerted thereby. He was beautiful as a young god, with a face full of laughing appeal, and not less charming than the miniature set in crystals which Mastachelli bore among the wedding gifts; and the grace of him could not be matched, for his power of winning, when he had set his heart to the task. In whatever deed of skill and daring his prowess went before his knights and nobles—as, from childhood up, in whatever teaching from books or men, he had distanced all his comrades—with that strange facility and fascination with which the Genius of Cyprus might have endowed her favorite in that lavish land, beloved of the gods, where her great sea-bound plains were billows of flowers under a long summer sky, and Nature's gifts came crowding, each upon each, in bewildering redundancy.

Laughter-loving, born to conquer, quick to reward, Janus was tender and generous to a fault; for it was whispered that he could take what lay nearest to give to those who offered him adoring service on his triumphal march, and that the murmur of the wronged belonged to the more serious side of life for which his full-flowing Greek blood had small patience. Such strange, unlikely tales one's enemy may tell!

And for his religion—be it Greek, or Latin, or whatever else—had he not been named Archbishop of Nikosia at the responsible age of fifteen, before he had exchanged the Episcopal Mitre for the Royal Crown?

These things were told, in all truth, of Janus II, King of Cyprus: and if some others were known, they were not discussed. For the monarch had lost his heart to the rare charm of the youthful Caterina, niece to a Venetian noble who had become his friend in Cyprus, and had more than once stood his helper with good Venetian gold; and who, in innocence or wile, had one day given him sight of the girl's fair face with its tender flush like a flower in spring, painted with rare skill by the greatest artist of Venice. The breeze might have toyed with that mist of golden hair, and the great dark eyes—softly luminous—had the expectancy of a gazelle awaiting the joy of the daydawn. She was daughter to one of the most ancient and noble of the patrician houses, in direct descent, so the Cornari claimed, of the Cornelii of Rome.

"There need be no haste," the Signor Andrea had said lightly, as he returned the miniature to its case blazoned in pearls with the arms of the Cornari, "for the child is but fourteen, though she hath the loveliness of twenty. But it is the way with our patricians of Venice, and Messer Marco of the Cornari, father to Caterina, is already planning with an ancient noble house of the elder branch with estates of unknown wealth, for the marriage of his daughter. Thus the fancy of the King must pass—there will be another—in Venice or Cyprus—the world is large."

"Nay, none so beautiful," the King made answer; "and for me none other. And for the matter of birth——"

"Naught hindereth that she might be Queen," Messer Andrea replied with nonchalance, having a scheme somewhat more deeply laid than the casual dropping of the miniature would seem to imply. "For the matter of birth—it is a trifle—and doubtless the Republic would make her, by adoption, Daughter to Venice—if there were aught in a created title to enhance her princely name with semblance of royalty. But there are already quarterings enough to match with the arms of Cyprus, and the Lusignans are a house far less ancient than the Cornelii."

Messer Andrea could say things with a certain facile grace that kept them from rankling, and at the moment the utterance of this truth was of consequence.

The King threw him a quick glance, half in amusement, half in admiration of his easy insolence, while Messer Andrea placidly explained that the Casa Cornaro was one of the twelve original families which composed the ancient ruling class of the Republic.

"And if the matter hath an interest for your Majesty," he continued, "our great-grandfather on our father's side, was that Marco Cornaro who was Doge of Venice; and the most noble Lady Fiorenza, mother to the child Caterina and wife to my brother Marco, was grand-daughter to Comnene, Emperor of Trebizonde. But that counteth little," he added magnanimously; "since the Empire of Trebizonde hath ceased to be."

"For the matter of birth—verily, as thou hast said, 'it is a trifle,'" the King admitted with a laugh: "but I must create thee Master to the Pedigree of the House of Lusignan—a right royal post—and at thy discretion thou mayest find or make it of a color noble enough to mate with thy fair maid of Venice."

"It pleaseth your Majesty to be of a merry mood. And for the dowry——"

Thence followed this embassy to Venice, for Janus was of those who would bear no thwarting nor delay. The princely dowry was forthcoming, for it had been offered by Messer Andrea Cornaro himself, and the condition of adoption by the Republic, "that the bride might be of a station befitting the royal alliance," well became the pleasure of the dignified Signoria.