By this ceremony the claims of Andrew of Hungary to a share in the throne were formally ignored, and the single sovereignty ceremoniously confirmed to Joan; for her husband was in no way admitted to join with her in the act of homage, nor was there any reference to him by word or deed from first to last; thereafter his position in the realm was that of its first subject and nothing more. In fact, he was simply the Prince Consort of Naples. During the ceremony—for he, like Joan, had come to it with a numerous armed retinue—the followers of the husband and wife not only kept up a brisk exchange of threats, but had actually to be prevented by repeated energetic commands from drawing their swords then and there. When it was over, and Andrew had returned to the Castel Nuovo, his heart on fire with rage and humiliation and disappointment, his first act was to dispatch a message to his mother, Elizabeth of Poland, informing her of his resolution to depart forthwith from the country which offered him nothing but deception and betrayal.
Many months passed away, however, without either his carrying out his avowed intention or any answer reaching him from his mother; for had he meant what he said in the letter, the letter would never have been written at all, but he would have gone himself instead of sending it. So he had hesitated in his choice of a course of action; and, hesitating, was lost.
In place of a return letter, his mother came to fetch him away with her on the vessel in which she had sailed from the port of Danzig; and no sooner was it known what she had come to do than there went up a sigh of thankfulness from all the Court, most especially from those who by her advent saw themselves delivered from the detestable necessity of assassinating the Hungarian Prince in order to ensure their own safety from his jealousy and resentment. At once, too, the friends—or, rather, the party—of Joan set themselves to convince the Queen of Poland of their amiable intentions towards her ungracious son by overwhelming her with all manner of undesired civilities and entertainments. But nothing could procure them the confidence of the terrified mother, or turn her from her purpose of removing Prince Andrew from their midst.
The only person, though, who expostulated with Queen Elizabeth for her project of withdrawing her son from Naples was his courageous and resolute tutor, the Dominican, Father Robert, who implored her to have patience and courage for a little while until he should have received from the Pope, who was then living at Avignon, an answer to the entreaty dispatched so long before, and in which Prince Andrew’s claims to be the King of Naples—in accordance with the wishes of the deceased King Robert—had been submitted to the judgment of the Holy Father with an entreaty that he would ratify them.
But all that Father Robert could obtain from the thoroughly terrified Elizabeth was a delay of three days, at the expiration of which time, unless a favourable answer had been received from the Pope, she would set sail once more for Danzig, taking Prince Andrew with her.
Not until the evening of that momentous third day, as she was completing her preparations for departure, did the Dominican come hurrying into Elizabeth’s presence, having in his hands a sheet of parchment from which swung a seal upon a cord.
“Now, God be thanked!” he cried, proffering her the parchment, “you see for yourself, madam—the Holy Father consents, and your son is King of Naples and of Jerusalem! And, if I may say so, I think it is owing to me more than to any one else!”
And he went on to explain to the delighted Elizabeth how, without mentioning it to any one, he had taken on himself the responsibility of promising that certain laws prejudicial to the Church in the Kingdom of Naples should be abolished if the Pope would confirm the crown to Andrew of Hungary. At this juncture Andrew himself entered the room and was informed of the change in his situation by being hailed as King of Naples by the Dominican. At once the young man’s whole nature leapt out to grasp the splendour of his new power in an outburst of revengeful exaltation over those who had hitherto insulted and belittled him. Now, as he swore, they should indeed have reason to tremble for their former boldness, their contempt and defiance of him!
A few days later Queen Elizabeth sailed away from Naples, her head still full of forebodings; try as she would, she could not shake off the fears that beset her so increasingly for the safety of her son whom she was leaving behind with none but a handful of foreign adherents in the midst of a Court and of a people bent, as she felt certain, upon his destruction.