Janus, whatever his gifts, had been no judge of men—possibly from too strong reliance in his own power to conquer them by his personal charm. Had this disbanding been deftly suggested to the facile King by his friend, the arch-schemer of Naples?
Was the wily Rizzo, even in those days, planning to leave Cyprus defenceless?
The Admiral gnashed his teeth and sent up a smothered cry to all the saints that his wrath might not unnerve him to the point of losing his iron grip upon himself.
But the situation was not rendered less galling by the reflection that the port of Famagosta—the sole harbor of importance in the island—was covered by the citadel commanded by a traitor; that just within the port a galley flaunting the colors of Naples, rode complacently; and that there were no longer any Cyprian ships-of-war ready for attack.
But retribution must be near; for he knew that Bernardini had sent warning followed by immediate details of the revolt, by secret messengers, concealed in trading-ships to the Venetian fleet off the African coast, and strong help must be at hand. To risk failure by a premature attack, for want of patience to endure a temporary disgrace, would be unmanly weakness. The Madonna be praised, the Chamberlain of the Queen was a man of resource; the people of the cities were devoted to her, and the end might be nearer than seemed possible.
The Admiral was impatient for the conference with Bernardini who had implored him to come without delay.
"At all hazards we shall hold the city-gate," the Chamberlain had written in the first hours of that dark dawn. "With citadel and port in command of the traitors and the Queen in their keeping, this post may have no importance in their eyes. But our help must come from without."
And now the little band of faithful knights were coming in sight of the city-walls—massive and splendid—a monument to the Lusignans.
"For our Queen and Cyprus!" the Admiral said solemnly, his hand upon his sword.
The tone of the utterance made it a command.