One, with signs of authority stepped forward to explain.
"Eccellenza, we are in command of the Lord Chamberlain Bernardini, who, since he fought his way through the false guard placed before this palace to serve the treachery of the Council, hath not ceased to gather men of metal throughout the city, till enough shall come to claim the Queen's release. For the cries of the women and unarmed weaklings clamoring under the walls of the fortress for her release, are but impotent wails to tickle the pride of those fiends of Naples."
"Bring me to the Bernardini, for I must speak with him on matter, it may be, of life, or death."
"Eccellentissima, the Lord Chamberlain hath not stayed his foot since this horror began—nor may we see his face until he hath done the possible to gather strength for an uprising to chase these devils of Naples."
"Dear men!" she cried, "it is a task!—I speak, not to stay your loyal hands, but to open your eyes that ye be prepared and fail not. The Commander of Famagosta hath men and arms behind those impregnable walls, and all the wicked strength of his cunning Council to direct them,—Rizzo and Fabrici—masters in intrigue—and the men of the galleys of Naples at the tower in the port, commanding land and sea. Without more force it is impossible!"
"Dear Lady, the Bernardini lacketh no courage, and he commandeth. He hath sworn that we shall save the Queen. The Admiral will come from Nikosia; and the galleys of Venice will haste to the rescue, Pazienza! We are bidden to keep the peace and secrecy until the moment shall be ripe; but to die in defense of this palace, which we hold for Her Majesty as a place of refuge."
"Dost bring us news of her. How fares it with Her Majesty?"
"For that I came!" cried Dama Margherita, her voice ringing through the hall like a leader's call to arms; "to bring news of her to her own! How should it fare with a Queen made captive in her own stronghold?—With a mother whose child hath been stolen from her?—With a woman struggling with such anguish?"
"The Prince!—Our King! Sanctissima Maria! San Marco confound the knaves!"
Every man's hand sought his sword with a murmured oath of loyalty and vengeance. Questions stormed upon her: but she commanded silence with a gesture.